


Skin Comfort

by misscam



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misscam/pseuds/misscam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can't even look at him. But he's always had other ways of making her see. [Snow/Charming]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 2x16. Elements of hurt/comfort.

Skin Comfort  
by misscam

Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words. 

II

She can't even look at him.

After all this, Cora's death and Regina's pain and hot she caused both, she can't look at him. David, David who didn't want this to happen, who must have feared something like this, who once risked his life to prevent something similar. 

'What did you do?' he asked her. She's still not sure what the answer is. She just knows the question keeps churning in her head, over and over while standing in the shower until the water turns as cold as her skin feels.

She can hear whispered conversations as she changes almost mechanically into something more fit for bed. Sure enough, Emma and David sit huddled together in the kitchen. Normally it would be a heartwarming sight, father and daughter together in common cause, but this time the cause feels too heart-wrenching. 

When everyone heads off to bed, Henry with questions and Emma with no good answers, she doesn't look up as David walks into her bedroom, closing the curtain behind him. He gets changed without a word, she can tell through lowered eyelids, only putting on a pair of pajamas pants and not bothering with a shirt. She can hear him breathe slowly in the silence of the room, perhaps looking for words to comfort her with.

She doesn't want that. There are no words. Instead she stands up and steps closer, keeping her eyes downcast as she feels the warmth of his body as he seems to tower over her, her own bones feeling like icicles. 

“Mary Margaret,” he says, carefully lifting his hands to her shoulders. Sh almost shudders at the touch and closes her eyes, the gentleness of it almost unbearable. His hands move down her arms softly until reaching hers, taking them to hold. She presses her forehead against his blindly, feeling selfish for wanting to draw from his strength. 

“Look at me,” he begs, his breath caressing her lips and meeting hers as she exhales. “Snow...”

“Charming,” she manages, keeping her eyes closed. She doesn't dare look at him, dares not confirm or dispel her fears of what she might see in his eyes. If he loves her less, then that will break her heart. If he loves her just as much, that will break her heart also, just for him this time. 

“Snow,” he says again, the sadness in his voice tugging at her, echoing her own, as if her pain is his and his pain is hers and they can't be told apart anymore. 

His kiss is a soft brush of lips against hers when he leans down, merely a lingering touch until she makes a noise like a sob to her own ears. At once his arms go around her, comforting, but she bites down on his lower lip as he moves to break the kiss.

No. No, and she links her hands around his neck and presses him close, drawing his bottom lip in between hers. The pain is almost choking her, but she can feel something else too, a dark selfish need to claim and have him, the only sort of comfort she can think of right now. 

(She's already been dark today, all too dark, even killing the light in his eyes a little.)

He stands very still for a moment, letting her kiss him more than participating, his hands going to her waist and holding gently. Still, so still. She can feel his chest rise and fall pressed against hers as he breathes heavily, clearly debating for a moment. Then he seems to come to the decision to give her what she wants, what she needs, pressing her against him and deepening the kiss. 

She moans as his lips parts and he draws her tongue into his mouth. She tilts her head to angle the kiss lightly, her fingers digging into the skin of his neck to get him as close as she can. She doesn't want to breathe, doesn't want to think, doesn't want to feel anything but what he can make her feel. 

She can feel the edge of the bed against the back of her legs, and carefully she sits down, Charming bracing himself on his arms as he leans down to keep kissing her. Without much care, she lets herself fall backwards, biting down on his lower lip as he goes down with her. He manages to brace the fall somewhat with his hands, supporting his upper body while his hips push hers into the mattress. She pushes hers back against his a little in reply and he groans into her mouth. 

He's still resting most of his weight on his arms, moving with her as she scoots back until she can feel the pillows against her head. Sitting up a little, she tears her own top off without a care, pushing herself up against him as he lowers his mouth to her neck. 

Yes. This, this made her forget even when Regina's threat loomed over them in their land and nothing seemed to calm her anxiety over it. This always made her forget, just forget for a little while skin was the only thing between them.

Skin to skin, Snow to Charming, now also David to Mary Margaret. 

She lifts a knee up and pushes the other leg between his as he sucks lightly on her skin, his teeth scraping a little too as he moves down along her neck. Finally he snakes a hand to her back, easing them both down against the pillows as the other hand moves to below her breast. The brush of his thumb against her nipple makes her arch a little while he lowers his head. Only then does she dare open her eyes a little, watching the top of his head through lowered eyelids as he moves his head to her other breast. 

Charming. _Charming_ , her Charming, the sense of possession suddenly rising in her like a tide. He's hers. He has to still be hers, even after this. She can't still be her if he's not hers. 

“I love you,” she murmurs, sounding desperate even to her own ears. As he lifts his head to answer, she claims his lips in another kiss. He mouths the words into her still, the feel of them reverberating against her tongue. 

Love. Such a great thing. Such a terrible thing, the loss of it making evil even out of young sweet women and threats to it making murderers even out of young princesses who promised a mother to be good. Love.

She keeps his mouth locked to hers as his hands move down, pushing her leggins and underwear down as she wriggles a little to help him shed them completely. When he pushes a finger into her a moment later, she claws at his shoulder a little, needing even more. The light pressure of his thumb helps, and then another finger, making her buck. 

She can feel the heat in her cheeks as she lets her head fall backwards and he makes a path of open mouthed kisses down her skin. Down and down and then his mouth is warm against her flesh and she can't feel anything but the bodily sensations as he keeps at it. Just as she wanted. Just as she needed. Drowning it all out.

Yes. Yes, yes and _yes_ , and everything else is gone as her body is all she can feel and then she can't even feel that. 

As her senses return to her, she can feel Charming's gaze on her even with her eyes closed. Blindly, she reaches for him, pulling him down to kiss him sloppily. He makes something between a moan and a sigh when she moves her hand to cup him through the cloth of his pajamas pants. He's hard, and she can feel him harden even more as she strokes as best she can through the cloth.

Her body feels faint still, so it's he who shifts her a little, shimmying out of his pajamas pants before lowering himself again. His hands caresses her knee as he pushes her leg up and then he is pushing into her, making that noise he always makes. Hers, she likes to think, that only she can lure it out of him. 

She draws her fingers across his arms, digging a little into flesh as he slides almost out of her, then pushes again, picking up pace as she clenches her muscles around him. Her lips feel swollen as she kisses him, pushing her tongue into his mouth, needing to feel even more. His skin clings to hers, brushing against hers as he angles himself even better. He moves a hand down between them as well, applying a steady pressure with his fingers while he thrusts, something within her rising with each sensation. 

Her orgasm is a tidal wave when it comes, washing over her, but taking nothing with it. As it fades, she feels everything else slam into her again. What she's done. What she's caused. Who she no longer is.

She clings to the feel of him as he loses himself as well, biting down on her shoulder as his body shudders and she can feel his release. His breath slowly steadies as he clings to her still and she to him. 

That's the problem with comfort. It never lasts, and hurt lingers far too long. 

“Snow,” he whispers, breath ragged, the affection in it killing her a little. Still the affection in it, now just mingled with hurt for her, with her. 

Maybe he needs the comfort just as much as she does, she thinks faintly. 

Then, she finally cries, pressing her head against his chest to swallow the sobs. He just holds her, his hands moving up and down her back. He doesn't tell her it will be okay, he can't tell her that, his touches just tells her he will be right there with her. 

Just as his kisses tell her he loves her beyond measure, his body tells her he's hers and she is his, the tone of his voice tells her he knows who she is even if she don't. 

He's always had other ways of making her see. 

“Yes,” she whispers back, opening her eyes and looking at him. 

Yes.

FIN


End file.
